


we shall be monsters

by luvridden



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Fix-It, M/M, the teacup comes together in short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvridden/pseuds/luvridden
Summary: a mizumono fix it -- will tells hannibal everything. hannibal does the same in return.
Relationships: Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from frankenstein.

“Do you know what an imago is, Will?” Hannibal asked as they were sitting at dinner.

Will answered, fingering his wine stem, “It's a flying insect.”

“It's the last stage of a transformation.” Hannibal corrected. 

“When you become who you will be?”

“It's also a term from the dead religion of psychoanalysis.” Did Will not know that he smelled Freddie  _ goddamn _ Lounds on him? “An imago is an image of a loved one, buried in the unconscious, carried with us all our lives. An ideal. The concept of an ideal... I have a concept of you, just as you have a concept of me.” Why lie to me, Will?

“Neither of us ideal.” Will mused sullenly.

“Both of us are too curious about too many things for any ideals.” Then, probing, testing boundaries, “Is it ideal that Jack die?” 

“It's  _ necessary _ . What happens to Jack has been preordained.” said Will, ignoring his food in favor of staring at Hannibal. 

_ Committing him to memory.  _ Hannibal realized. 

Hannibal offered, his heart nearly in pieces, “We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite.”

“Then this would be our last supper.” said Will, tongue too large in his mouth. 

“Of this life. I served lamb.”

Will almost laughed. “Sacrificial.”

“I don't need a sacrifice, do you?” Hannibal asked, still trying to see if Will was on his side.

“I need him to  _ know _ . If I confess to Jack Crawford right now…” 

“I would forgive you.” A pause, then, “If Jack were to tell you all is forgiven, would you accept his forgiveness?” 

“Jack isn't offering forgiveness. He wants... Justice. He wants to see you, see who you are. See what I've become. He wants the truth.” 

“To the truth, then. And all its consequences.” Hannibal said, eyes filling with tears. 

Will couldn't stand it anymore. “I've been lying to you.” he blurted. “Freddie’s alive. I… I've been working with the FBI to put you in jail.” he finished, breathing hard. 

Hannibal, ever so composed, replied with, “I smelled her on you. I was wondering if you would tell me.” he said, lips drifting into a smile. “Wonderful thing.” he said fondly, expression naked on his face. 

Will had to look down from the overexposure on Hannibal's face. Blinded by the emotion. Will bit his lip to abate sobs building in his throat. “I'm sorry.” he choked out. 

“Surely it wasn't only Uncle Jack’s idea.” Hannibal prodded, leaning forward on his right elbow, “When you killed Randall Tier and let me help you dismember him… was that you trying to maintain your cover?”

Will pressed his lips together at the question. “He hurt Buster, one of my dogs.” he said limply. 

he says: “Killing Randall felt good because he did an evil deed. How would it feel good to kill me now?”

Will's lips pinch into a thin line. “I don't know.”

“More importantly,” he said, boldly wrapping a hand around Wills’, “I've been lying to you.” His brows furrow, one then raising in a nonverbal indication for him to go on. Hannibal doesn't elaborate. 

Hannibal tips his head forward, absorbing Will's answer. “You're at a crossroads. What will you do now?” 

Will makes a confused face. “What do you mean?”

Hannibal leans forward, his mouth tipping up in a half grin. “Now that you've told me the truth, dear Will, you have options. You could leave with me, tonight. You could stay, and tell Jack Crawford everything.” a pause, and a brazen swipe across his knuckles, “The decision is up to you, Will.” 

Will blinks and leans back, the motion sliding his hand out from under Hannibal’s. His shoulders hit the wood of the chair with a dull thud. 

Let's see, he could feed his dogs one last time and run away with Hannibal to god knows where… and do what? He's the Chesapeake Ripper, for god's sake. He'd be running away with the Chesapeake Ripper, the killer Jack has been hot on the heels of for years. The thought brings a small smile to his face, and he ducks his head down to hide the smile. Hannibal's eyes crinkled in the corners -- his version of a smile -- at Will's amusement. 

He could stay, and tell Jack that Hannibal is the Ripper, the very same he's been chasing for years. To what end? Someone will bleed. 

So Will does the sensible thing. “I'll go with you.” he decided, sticking his eyes to Hannibal’s collar. 

Hannibal's smile widens. “Splendid.” he said, moving his hand from the cold wood as he stood and started clearing the dishes. “I have a stop to make on the way, Will, I sincerely hope you do not mind.”

“No,” he replied, fluttering a hand through the air, “go ahead.” 

Hannibal hides his smile and stacks the dishes, taking the time to meticulously clean the porcelain and let the dishes air dry.  _ Mise en place.  _ “Very well then,” he says as he got back to the table. “I'll drive you home.”

_ Shit, I'm really doing this.  _ Will thought, forcing a deep breath as he stood and pushed his chair in. 

The hour long drive was silent, Will staring out the window as the raindrops started pattering against the glass. Hannibal’s bag was already packed and in the trunk; Will was willing to bet that the clothes were folded perfectly within the canvas of the bag. “What are you thinking about?” Hannibal hedged, glancing at Will once before turning his eyes back to the road. 

“Just that your clothes are probably folded meticulously in the bag.” Will said tonelessly. 

Hannibal's lips twitched up in a brief smile, pulling into Will’s driveway. He shifted the car's gears and nodded at Will. 

He got out of the car clumsily, walking on shaky legs to his farmhouse. He takes a moment to commit it to memory, walking in and spooning out extra helpings of the food into each bowl. He runs the tub for ten minutes, to the brim. He gathered his things while the tub was filling up, shuffling the few bath products into his bag and stuffing shirts in. Winston whined as Will stood on his porch again, begging him to stay. 

Will squatted down and rubbed his head and shoulders. On a whim, he pulled at Winston’s collar -- the dog stubbornly staying rooted to his spot. He gave up, sighing. “I'm sorry, buddy.” before he could feel worse about leaving his entire life behind for a cannibal, he turned away and threw his bag in the back of the car, putting his foot up on the seat and leaning his elbow on his knee. Curled up on himself.

Hannibal said nothing, nothing on his face betraying his state of mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

First, Hannibal took them to the cliffside house. Abigail was sitting on one of the couches (sans right ear) and reading one of the books. This week, it looked like Frankenstein. She turned her head to the intrusion, standing when she caught sight of Will beside Hannibal. Words remained stuck on her tongue, nothing able to push them to come out. 

Will was much of the same. “Abigail…?” swallowing, he said, “But you were…”

She gave a grimace that could've been played off as a smile. “I was.” she quipped. Her eyes shifted to Hannibal, curious.

“I thought it would be best for you two to reconnect.” Hannibal said. “Time has reversed, it seems. The universe has contracted, gifting you Abigail--”

“Shut up,” Will hissed, eyes red rimmed; the blue standing stark against the red. “You knew, this whole time. You shoved her ear down my throat and made me believe I lost her--” his voice cracked on ‘lost’, making him snap his mouth shut and look down. 

Hannibal said nothing again. Any other situation, he would've enveloped the person in a hug. 

But Will wasn't any other person. “It was all for the greater good--”

“If greater good means making me crack, you and I have very different definitions of the term.” Will snarled. 

Hannibal paused and thought over the right words to soothe Will. “In Japan, there is this tradition of mending broken china with glue that has been made with gold, silver, or platinum pigment. The art is called  _ kintsugi _ .”

“If this is gonna be one of your convicted metaphors, I'm gonna throw myself over the cliff.” Will sneered, digging his palms into his eyes. “You-you break my mind and make me think Abigail’s dead and  _ frame _ me; and-and  _ gift _ her to me? To show that the goddamn teacup has come together?” he spat. Before Hannibal could do anything more, he slapped Hannibal across the face. 

He took the strike in stride, easily catching Will’s wrists when he attacks again, beating his fists against his chest. That's when he envelops Will into a hug, holding the sobbing brunette in his chest. “I didn't mean to upset you, dear Will.” he said lowly, making sure his voice rumbled in his chest to ground Will. “Abigail isn't just a gift to you. She's our daughter.” he made sure Abigail knew the meaning of those words as well as Will. 

Tears flood her eyes, making her face crumple. She joins the hug, making Will weaken further, his sobs turning to hiccups. Will turns and wraps Abigail in his arms, pressing his face to her hair. “I missed you so much, every day.” he whispered hoarsely. She hiccups again, holding him  tight. Hannibal's shirt may have been soaked through with salt water, but his spirits were high -- his own teacup having come together. 


	3. Chapter 3

Will had one hell of a time settling in Paris. Hannibal had a motorcycle and leather jacket -- and  _ wow,  _ let’s not go into that train of thought. He had taken the identity of some socialite or another, Will as his wife’s brother. Things were pretty good, once Will stopped icing out Hannibal for a week and a half. But he was so  _ bored _ . At least at home, he had the dogs or books. Here, he has  _ tomes  _ in a language he barely speaks and zero furballs to occupy his time. So, he decided to go fishing. He’d make sure to go out when he was sure Hannibal was asleep, taking his time to lure men back so he could have his fun. 

Except, he sort of thought Hannibal was stupider than he was, which is why it was a surprise when he snuck past the kitchen and the light flipped on -- revealing Hannibal in a robe with a steaming mug. “Darling, we really have to start talking about your late night excursions.” he said with mock exasperation, hiding a smile in the mug. 

The man behind Will’s eyes widened. “Shit, you didn’t tell me you have a husband?!”

“Believe me, that’s is news to me too,” Will grumbled. He punched the man in the stomach and dashed his head against the table, knocking him out cold. He huffed and turned back to Hannibal. “So? let's have at it.” he said, his hands coming outward and then slapping down at his sides. 

“Have you felt so neglected by me that you felt the need to go fish?” he asked, setting the mug down at his side and setting his hands on the counter. 

Will sighed and rolled his eyes. “It's not about you neglecting me, where did you get that idea?” he scoffed, then stepped forward so they both stood in the kitchen. “No, I was bored.” 

Hannibal's eyebrows raise. “I came to that conclusion when you waited until you thought I was asleep to go on your excursions.” 

Right, he forgot Hannibal was a semi-light sleeper. He should get better at sneaking around. “What, you wanna go on hunts with me?” he tried. At Hannibal’s silence, he said, “Oh my god, you were jealous, weren't you?”

Hannibal's mouth pops open to rebut, then snaps shut when Will starts laughing, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles. “I was not jealous, I was simply wondering why you felt the need to go fish. Now that I have my answer, I shall be going back to bed.” he said, happily trodding his way to the stairs past Will.

Will's stomach drops, and he slips on sock clad feet. “Wait, wait, shit; I didn't want that.” 

“Oh?” Hannibal said as he stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow. 

Will refrained from rolling his eyes, snatching his hand. “I'm sorry,” he said, licking his lips unconsciously. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Hannibal cocks his head, turning fully back to Will. His hand still remains in Will's. “I'm listening.” he said. 

Will holds in a sigh and straightens. “I could stop fishing, if you wanted me to.” 

Hannibal smiles, then his eyes trail over Will's shoulder. “Wonderful, darling, but I fear that your little minnow has been swimming to the door.” 

Indeed, Will's catch of the night had been crawling toward the door. Will rolled his eyes this time, walking slowly to the side of the catch. He puts his left foot over the back of him, twisting his neck with a loud crack. The man falls limp in front of the front door. 

“You used your hands,” Hannibal noted. Will glances at him over his shoulder, then twists at his torso to look at Hannibal. Hannibal tries, and fails, to not ogle Will’s lower half. 

“Yeah. Usually he would've been down at the basement by now so I could do what I want… but somebody interrupted me.” he snarked, departing from the dead man and backing Hannibal against the steps. Hannibal stays stock still as Will's hands trail to the collar of his shirt, smoothing them and then yanking him down for a kiss. He smiled against his mouth and murmured, “I'd been wanting to do that for a long time.”

Hannibal replied, hand coming up to cover one of Will's, “Not as long as I did.” 


	4. Chapter 4

“Dads!” she called out to them, flipping her braid out from under her collar, “I’m going out!”

Will looked up from his book, then quizzically at Hannibal. “Where to?” he asked her. 

“Oh, you know, just a party.” she said nonplussed, “With my friends and a few other people.” when he opens his mouth to object, she cuts him off with: “I’ll be home before midnight, and I’ll call if I need a ride. I’ll be safe.” she promised, kissing his forehead. He smiled and nodded, nose diving back into his book. 

Hours later, she calls Will, breath shaky against his ear. “Dad?” she asked, half whispering.

He glanced at the clock -- ten twenty-one. “What’s up?” he asked, beckoning Hannibal over and putting his phone on speaker, “Is something wrong?”

“T-there was this guy and he kept, like, putting his hand on my thigh even though I told him not to and to stop it and he wouldn’t take no for an answer--”

Hannibal interrupted her hysterics. “Abigail, breathe.” he said gently and firmly. “Where are you?” he asked once he heard her take a shaky breath in and out. 

She rattled off the address, somewhere secluded. The pair moved into action when they told her to stay put and that they would be there in a moment, grabbing gloves and other assorted supplies. They made their way in Will’s car -- better for stalking -- finding Abigail sitting on the front steps, shivering. She rockets to her feet when she sees the pair, running into Will’s arms like a small child. He holds her tightly, smoothing her hair back soothingly. “Abby, where is he?” he asks her once she stops shaking in his arms. 

She pulls away, swallowing hard; leading them aside and into the backyard. A boy lays against a side panel. Hannibal leans in and pulls away a second later, quietly telling her that he’s still alive, thankfully. The three trod back to the car, Abigail climbing into the back and curling up on herself. “Abigail, how did you feel when you thought you killed him?” Hannibal asks levelly, smacked on the arm by Will. 

She takes a deep breath in and out. “I was afraid that we would have to move out of France. I really like it here,” she said, staring down at her hands. 

WIll sighed. “We wanted to tell you this once you got put on break, but Hannibal found a spot in Italy he is fond of.” he chanced a glance at his partner, finding only a blank expression. “The college there aligns with what you want to study  _ and _ you would learn a new language.” he argued, neck twisting around to gaze at the teenager. 

She sighed shortly out her nose, thinking it over. “Can I have a few days to get back to you on that?” she asked with a light laugh. 

Hannibal smiled at her in the mirror. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”


	5. Chapter 5

They did end up going to Italy -- assuming the role of Dr. Roman Fell and Lydia’s brother, who brought along his daughter. Hannibal had grown bored, having baited a hook in France. Lo and behold, Antony Dimmond finds him outside the Palazzo, asking about Roman. 

Him and his husband would love to have him for dinner. 

Will eyed his husband, poking a fork into the oysters and closing his mouth across the fork, drawing Antony’s eyes as well as Hannibal's. “How well do you two know the Fells?” Luckily, Abigail was at school.

“About as much as anyone, which would be not really.” Will charmed. “Is Lydia a friend of yours?”

Antony responded, his eyes on Will’s mouth, “No. She a friend of yours?” 

Will took the time to finish another oyster before answering. “No.” he answered with a coy grin. 

“Roman,” Hannibal said, serving himself and Antony, “is lecturing to the Studiolo on Friday, on Dante.” he dodged Will's quick kick under the table. Will aimed again for his shin, hitting his mark hard and making the skin around Hannibal’s eyes tighten for a moment. 

Antony responded, “Hm. Dante wrote fear was almost as bitter as death.”

“Dante wasn't dead when he wrote it.” Will retorted to them, smiling playfully. 

A lull in conversation, then Antony noted, “Acorns, oysters, and Marsala. That's what the Romans used to feed animals to improve their flavors.”

Will paused and finished chewing a bite of some Marsala before saying, “Boris is very particular about how I taste.” he quipped, hiding a smile in his wine glass. 

Antony’s eyebrows raise to his forehead, then he glances at Hannibal. “Is it that kind of party?” he asked, clearly interested in both men. 

Hannibal paused and gazed at Will, catching a flicker of darkness across his face before he schools it neutral. “No,” he managed to keep his tone neutral too, “it really isn't.” 

“Shame. You both were suddenly so interesting.” he said boldly. 

  
Later that week, Will found Hannibal and Antony in a  _ very _ compromising position. He quickly slit  Antony’s throat, holding the knife to Hannibal's throat. “No.” he snarled, the knife digging into the tender skin of his throat. “Only  _ I _ get to touch you, love you,  _ know _ you. When you die, it will be by  _ my _ hands and my hands alone. Now clean up your mess.” he ordered Hannibal. 

Obediently, he cleaned the blood and made plans to dispose of the body. Later that evening, as they were eating dinner silently, Hannibal asks, “Are you angry at me?”

“Dad. What did you do?” Abigail asked, not pausing in cutting into her food. 

“He brought another man into our bed. Or was going to.” he said darkly. 

Abigail's mouth drops open, fork and knife coming to a screeching stop. “Dad. What the hell.” she asked, throwing down her fork and flopping back against her chair. 

“Not to worry, Abigail, Good Will slit his throat before something could be done.” 

Will scoffed and jammed a knife into the table. Abigail didn't startle, instead cutting into her food like normal. “You bring another man in when I'm not home and then you're surprised when I react irrationally?” he asked, glaring at Hannibal. 

Hannibal smiled and tipped his head to the side. “Not surprised, my love. Enraptured.”

That makes Will stop in his tracks, his mouth opening. “You did that on  _ purpose _ ?” he hissed. “Forget mad, I'm officially pissed at you. You're not allowed to touch me for a week.” 

That makes Hannibal balk. “Darling, I have apologized, haven't I?”

“No you haven't. And bad behavior rewards punishment.” he said, clearing his plate. 

They lasted a total of two days of not being able to touch the other. 


End file.
